Children of Time: Behind the Scenes
by Wholmes Productions
Summary: Even without the Doctor, life at 221B will never be the same... Drabble series, post-finale.
1. Band

(Set during Episode 11: 'The Dying Detective')

Beth's cell phone was a source of endless entertainment for their entire motley family. Sally described it as a laptop disguised as a phone. George and Nikola regarded it with keen scientific interest, Nikola claiming that he could build one himself with the proper materials, wondering how he had never thought of such a thing before.

The phone served quite an unexpected function for the Irregulars, however, from the moment Beth first played music on it for them. Most of them could sing well—they'd done so before as street performers and carollers. But Beth's music, a mix of 20th and 21st centuries, was unlike anything they'd ever heard before… and they loved it.

 _So this is what you meant_

 _When you said that you were spent_

 _And now it's time to build from the bottom of the pit_

 _Right to the top_

 _Don't hold back_

 _Packing my bags and giving the academy a rain-check_

Will was as bad as the rest of them, memorising lyrics instantly and singing those songs constantly with the other boys.

 _I don't ever wanna let you down_

 _I don't ever wanna leave this town_

 _'Cause after all_

 _This city never sleeps at night_

Beth never thought that, in introducing them to the classic songs of Imagine Dragons, she'd inadvertently inspired the very first boy band.


	2. Bliss

(Follow-on from 'Every Good Fairytale', chapter 8.)

"I'm _so_ sorry, John..."

"It wasn't your fault, Sally. My poor love... that meeting must have been a dreadful shock."

"Well, what about you?! Mary married _Sholto_ , John, she didn't even remember you! And Moran... oh God, how many times...?"

"Just once, actually – probably due to my lack of reaction. I know, that sounds terrible... but truthfully, Sally... I wasn't missing Mary nearly as much as I was you."

"But..."

"Moriarty said it himself, love: she wasn't _my_ Mary, she was Sholto's. He may not be handsome, but he is kind and honourable – without him, Mary wouldn't even have had the pearls, or known about her father. Did she seem at all unhappy to you?"

"Well, no..."

"I never met Mary that time, Sally, never captured her heart... there was no reason for her not to give it to another. And Sholto clearly thought the world of Mary – look at everything he did for her."

"Mm... and with Sundar, she could come and go freely; even in Frozen Time, she wasn't a prisoner in her own home."

"Exactly. You mustn't blame yourself, love – Time needed to be reset, we had no choice. At least with Sholto... Mary had another chance at happiness, however brief."

"Do you think Thaddeus remembers?"

"No, sweetheart; I hope he never does." Sometimes ignorance truly was bliss.


	3. Brave

(Follow-on from 'Together Or Not At All', chapter 12.)

Inspector Hopkins was warming his hands on his mug of tea, fortifying himself before attacking a pile of backdated paperwork, when his office door opened and Lestrade walked in. Nothing odd about that, the man often neglected to knock – except that he was wearing the oddest expression.

Hopkins sighed; he'd forgotten about Lestrade's meeting this afternoon with the Holmes brothers. "What's Himself done now?"

Lestrade shook his head weakly, murmuring, "Never thought I'd see the day, Stanley..." He pulled up a chair, dropping heavily into it. "I don't suppose _you_ knew Mr. Holmes is getting married tomorrow?"

Hopkins' jaw dropped. "You're joking!"

"Honest to God – I just met his fiancée."

"...sweet Jesus... So... what's she like?"

"Hm, she's a sweet young thing – American, going by the accent." Lestrade's brow furrowed. "It's funny, though... I could _swear_ I'd met her before somewhere..."

"A Yankee?" Hopkins grinned in amazement. "Well, trust Mr. Holmes not to do things by halves!"

Lestrade nodded. "And Miss Smith looks barely out of the schoolroom, besides. But, Lord... the way those two look at each other has to be seen to be believed!" He chuckled. "It's a good thing they've got Mrs. Hudson for chaperone!"

Hopkins stared. "Hold on... D'you mean to say... the young lady's already _staying_ at Baker Street?!"

"And we thought the doctor was brave..."


	4. Bows

"Play for me?" she says, and she's a child once more with innocent eyes wide with wonder, and he would give anything to be able to go back and give that child what she asked of him, rather than crushing that innocence and turning the wonder to horror as he did before at last he wanted to give her what she needed.

"Of course, love," he says, and she breaks into a magnificent smile that could outshine a galaxy of stars, as if he's never played for her before. But he understands. He, too, cherishes everything they have together with an intensity that might be deemed ludicrous, but they have been through too much to take what they have for granted.

So he tucks his beloved Stradivarius beneath his chin and plays. He closes his eyes and lets his love for her move his hands. His father had allowed him to learn violin from a master—the man had told him that he would never truly play until he was playing for someone he loved. He'd never understood the truth of that until the first time he played for Beth, just two days after their official wedding.

He opens his eyes to see Beth watching him with unshed tears in her eyes. He finishes with a flourish, smiles gently, and bows.


	5. Blush

It was washing day, and the scullery of 221B was a hive of activity, if bees were in the habit of getting blistered and soaking wet.

"The minute someone invents the washing machine, we're getting one," Beth panted, losing her grip on the heavy dolly stick again as she stirred the sheets in the washtub.

"They did," Sally grunted dourly, "I'm cranking it." The wringer she was feeding John and Sherlock's shirts through was an evil-minded contraption that much preferred fingers to clothes. "And what the heck did John do to his handkerchief? It's so full of holes, you could use it for a net!"

"Sherlock," Beth sighed. She straightened with a groan, massaging her aching back. "He spilled acid during an experiment, so John had to think fast. Would've been okay, if he'd just remembered to rinse it out sooner..."

"If you've finished with the linen, Elizabeth, you can come and help me starch these collars," Mrs. Hudson called from the kitchen.

"Go on," Sally nodded. "It won't hurt those to soak a bit longer." She grinned teasingly. "Especially after what you two got on them – chocolate, was it?"

" _Hot_ chocolate," Beth replied haughtily. "Sherlock couldn't sleep, so we made ourselves a drink." She swept out of the scullery, trying to pretend it was the steam-filled room making her blush.


	6. Be

(First 221B x2!)

 **Rated M** — for some narrative discussion of sex without actual sex.

* * *

Beth loved making love to her husband.

Of course she enjoyed the actual sexual aspects of the fact. Tremendously. As often as reasonably possible, which was not as often she would have liked.

But Beth never had and never would have a normal relationship with her husband, for the simple fact that she had loved him literally for as long as she could remember. Slightly different versions of him, of course, but very much _him_ , nonetheless.

He was Sherlock Holmes, and she was eternally aware of that fact.

As a fictional character, he had been _the_ Confirmed Bachelor, the distant, unattainable Sir Galahad—and, for the longest time, Reality had seemed to bear that out. Aloof, cool, even cold at times, and far, far removed from any such considerations as romantic affection or sexual attraction. No matter how much Sherlock disliked his written counterpart, Beth could easily believe that he had once asserted he should never marry lest he bias his judgment. Horror of horrors, that he should ever replace his idol of cold hard logic for one of warmth, softness, sentiment!

She tried not to think of their marriage as a conquest, sometimes succeeding, because thinking like that would be objectifying Sherlock a little. Which was difficult enough to avoid normally, having known him first as a fictional character, and his being a myth and legend in his own right, even in his own time. It would irritate him when she slipped, not thinking and speaking of him as _himself_ , rather than as a version of himself, but he couldn't understand fully how great her disadvantage was in that regard.

But getting him to kiss her back, tell her "yes," say he loved her… those _were_ real victories. Victories over his stubbornness and pride, over the damage Moriarty had done, over the ideals of masculinity English society had bred him on.

So simple kisses on the mouth were infused with a giddy sort of joy, and pulling him down to meet her mouth, down to meet her on the bed, were the motions of someone who had… not _tamed_ something wild, but persuaded the wild thing to trust her.

When he looked at her with love, with desire, with his heart in his eyes… she _knew_ , beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was the center of his universe, and that was everything.

In those moments, she inescapably saw both the myth and the man in her husband, luxuriating in the feeling of loving him, of making love to him, of being loved _by_ him… in his entirety, in everything he had ever been and everything he ever could be.

* * *

 **Sky:** (Sorry for the late A/N!) Just to be clear, none of this piece was intended to be derogatory towards asexuality, or indeed of the idea that Sherlock Holmes is asexual. Beth's frustration here lies with Sherlock's own previous derogatory views of romance, emotions, and women in general, and the things he's said regarding them. (Let's be honest: the canon version might never be as much of a jerk as some of his modern counterparts, but he _can be a jerk_ nonetheless.)


End file.
